Never Again
by LoneCat
Summary: Dean loses somebody he loves and somebody he’ll never know


Never Again

Summary: Dean loses somebody he loves and somebody he'll never know

Spoilers: Nothing after "Nightmare"

Rating: PG-13

Genre: Angst

Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Supernatural

A/N: I had originally planned this idea as a multi-chapter fic, but realized that I'd probably never get around to it, so I'm doing it as a one-shot.

Sam sighed and closed his eyes, running his hand over his face. He had been staring at his laptop for three hours now, trying to come up with something, anything, that would help him understand his powers. The only stuff he had found was utter nonsense, like "Expand your mind to become psychic! Only $29.95!" He snorted at the advertisement. He couldn't believe some people bought into this crap.

Sam sighed and stared at the screen again, trying to think of some new phrase to Google. A ring interrupted his thoughts.

"Dean," Sam called to his brother, who was half asleep watching some asinine sitcom, "your phone's ringing."

"So?"

"Maybe you should answer it."

Dean let out a heavy sigh and reached over phone his phone.

"Hello."

Sam turned towards Dean, curious as to who was on the phone. He watched as his brother's expression went from bored, to worried, to upset. All the color drained out of Dean's face and he dropped the phone, ignoring the fact that the person on the other end of the line was still talking.

"Dean, what is it?" Sam asked, concerned about his brother's reaction to the phone call. Dean, however, did not respond. He just stood up and walked out the door, without his coat, car keys or even a room key. Sam was tempted to race after him, but knew his brother could take care of himself. At least he hoped so. Besides, he needed to know what was wrong before he could help. With that thought in mind, he quickly ran over and picked up Dean's discarded phone.

"Hello? Is anyone there? Dean, are you there?" the voice on the line called out.

"This is Sam, Dean's younger brother, who is this?" Sam asked, accusingly as he put the phone to his ear.

"I'm Laurel Robinson," the other person answered, seemingly not offended by Sam's rude attitude.

"Robinson?" Sam asked, the name ringing a bell.

"Yes, I'm Cassie's cousin."

The bell had become a fire alarm.

"What's wrong with Cassie? What upset Dean?"

A mournful sigh was heard from Laurel.

"Cassie, passed away last night," Laurel answered. Sam gulped. He knew how hard losing the person you are in love with is. Add to the fact that Dean doesn't deal with emotions well and Sam knew his brother wasn't going to be in good shape anytime soon.

"How?" he asked, desperate to know the details, trying to find a way to help comfort his obviously grieving brother.

"She, umm," Laurel said, starting to get choked up, "she was shot. There was a hostage situation at the bank that went bad. She was shot in the chest. The bullet nicked an artery and she died before she arrived at the hospital."

"Oh God…" Sam said, trailing off, not knowing what else to say.

"There's more," Laurel said, sounding as if she was afraid to tell him.

"What?"

"I barely had time to tell Dean before he dropped the phone," Laurel explained and then paused before continuing, "Umm… Cassie was six months pregnant."

Sam felt the whole world shift on its axis. It had been six months since they were in Ohio. Six months since Dean and Cassie had been reunited.

"Is it… was it…" Sam tried, but the words wouldn't come.

"It was Dean's. Cassie and I were close, she told me for sure. I knew I had to call him and tell him," Laurel said sympathetically.

"Thank-you," Sam said hurriedly, realizing that his brother could not take care of himself in his current mental state like he had first assumed.

"Take care of him, Sam. Cassie loved him a lot," Laurel said, choking up once more.

"I will, good-bye."

"Good-bye."

Sam had barely hung up the phone before he grabbed a room key and the Impala keys and raced out the door. He hopped in the Impala and started it up. Not giving it a chance to warm up, he raced out of the motel parking lot. He stopped once he reached the first intersection having no clue which way to go. He took a deep breath in, trying to calm himself, and caught the scent of bonfire smoke. He quickly assessed that it was coming from the left, so he turned right. Out of, what was now, pure habit, Dean avoided fire unless he really needed to be around it. Dean never acknowledged it, but Sam knew Dean subconsciously related fire to the loss of their mother more so than he related the demon to her loss.

It didn't take too long for an anxious Sam to come across Dean, who was just wandering down the sidewalk aimless. Sam pulled the car up beside Dean and rolled the window down.

"Dean, get in."

Dean didn't acknowledge his little brother in any way and kept walking.

"Dean."

Again, nothing.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, now so worried about his brother the only thought in his head was to get Dean into the car. Luckily, his last call out to his brother had snapped Dean out of it enough to look over to where Sam sat, coasting the Impala alongside Dean.

"Get in the car. Please, Dean," Sam begged and Dean silently agreed. Dean rarely ever refused a request from Sam and he seemed to be on autopilot at the moment, so Sam could pretty much get him to do anything.

They drove back to the motel in silence. Sam was extremely concerned. Dean had yet to speak a word, which was highly unusual, but Sam didn't know what to do. He pulled up to the motel and turned the car off. He turned to Dean, but the older man was already getting out of the car and standing at the motel room door waiting for Sam to unlock it. Sam sighed, suddenly his research from before didn't seem so horrible. It was much better than dealing with this uncharacteristically silent, and obviously broken Dean.

As soon as Sam unlocked the motel room door, Dean headed for the bathroom and closed the door. A tiny click could be heard as he locked it. Sam sat down on one of the beds, waiting for his brother to come out so that he could talk to him and try to help him deal with this blow. After about fifteen minutes of waiting, Sam realized that he hadn't heard any water being turned or any noise at all coming from the bathroom. He looked around the room and realized that Dean's shaving kit was still in the bathroom. A large lump formed in Sam's throat and rushed over to the bathroom door and started to pick the lock. He had never picked a lock so quickly in his life, but he didn't care, because he had no idea what his brother would do in his current mental state. As soon as he heard the click that announced the fact that he had indeed unlocked the door, he made the door fly open. Sam looked around the room frantically and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Dean sitting down in front of the sink, head in hands, and his shaving kit untouched.

That relief quickly disappeared as he noticed his brother's shoulders shaking and the muffled sound of a sob. He rushed over and sat down beside Dean, pulling him into a hug. He expected Dean to pull away, but instead the older, tougher, stronger brother collapsed into his baby brother's arms, and let the tears flow. The only sounds in the room were the occasional sobs that came out of the broken man. Sam pulled his arms tighter around his brother and gently rocked him back and forth while drawing small, soothing circles on the devastated man's back. They sat like that for almost two hours, before Dean's shoulders stopped shaking and he pulled slightly away from his younger brother.

"Does it ever stop?" Dean asked in a small voice.

"Does what ever stop?" Sam asked, confused by his brother's question, though grateful that the man had indeed spoke.

"The pain."

Sam looked into Dean's eyes and saw the pain he spoke about reflected in them powerfully.

"No," Sam said, refusing to lie to his distressed brother, "It never goes away, but you learn to deal with it.

Dean nodded his head, sorrow radiating off of him. He then completely pulled away from his brother and stood up shakily. Sam quickly got to his feet, ready to aid the older man if need be. Dean made his way into the main room and lay down on the bed. He closed is eyes and curled himself into a ball. Sam pulled the blankets over him. It was obvious Dean was exhausted both mentally and physically.

The last thing Sam heard from Dean, before the heavy breathing of sleep overtook was, "I was going to be a dad."

It was then that Sam realized that Dean had lost the person he was in love with like Sam and John had, but it was much harder for Dean. Sam and John could get revenge. They would get revenge. But Dean couldn't. The thing that killed his beloved wasn't a thing at all, but a person. And no matter what Dean had said about La Grange and Max, he wasn't the type to kill in cold blood. Though, Sam did hope Dean never came face to face with Cassie's murderer, because his older brother might make an exception.

Sam also realized that John and he could never completely understand the pain Dean was going through. He never had a child and John never lost Dean and Sam. Dean lost a child, though. He lost out on a chance to be a father, to have a real family. Sam couldn't imagine the pain of that.

What Sam really realized, though, was that his brother, the big, strong protector, was damaged. He would never be the same again. He would never be whole again. He would never really be Dean again.

A/N: Please read and review.


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